


Kinktober Compilation 2018

by amaanogawa



Category: Haikyuu!!, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Begging, Face-Sitting, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-07-21 02:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16150931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amaanogawa/pseuds/amaanogawa
Summary: A series of explicit oneshots for Kinktober 2018.Day 1: face-sitting (kurodai)Day 2: begging (sheith)Prompt 3: masturbation (kurodai)





	1. Day 1: face-sitting (kurodai)

"I don't know about this, Kuroo," Daichi says dubiously, wringing his hands in his lap. 

They're sitting on the bed facing one another, Daichi on his knees with his shins tucked under him and a towel wrapped around his waist, skin and hair damp from the shower. Kuroo is leaning back, arms propped behind him casually with a nonchalant expression as if they were just chatting about the weather. 

"It's fine if you don't want to," he says with a shrug, and Daichi knows it's supposed to put him at ease but it only makes him feel silly, like he's overreacting to something that shouldn't be a big deal.

But it _is_ a big deal- because Kuroo wants to eat him out and they've never done that before.

Hell, before today Daichi hadn't even _considered_ it, much less think he would be here today with his boyfriend of 3 months, freshly showered and feeling just a little too inexperienced for his comfort.

"Have you done it before?" Daichi manages to ask, looking up nervously, and the smirk he receives in reply is enough to make his heart jump.

"Sure. Not many times, but I enjoy it," Kuroo says, his voice low, and he finally straightens up to lean in close to Daichi's face, cupping Daichi's cheek with his hand. "I mean it, Daichi. If you don't want to, or feel uncomfortable, we don't have to. We can do other stuff. I'd honestly be more than happy with anything, as long as it's with you."

Daichi's cheek is burning something fierce under Kuroo's hand, because as Kuroo talks he can't seem to tear his eyes away from Kuroo's lips. He's kissed those lips thousands of times by now, felt that tongue against his own, even seen it flattened underneath his cock on a multitude of occasions. He knows what it can do, has felt and succumbed to the power of it over and over again. 

And he wants it. He does. In every way possible.

"I want to," Daichi says, releasing the tension in his fingertips as he leans into Kuroo's touch. He trusts Kuroo. It's new and everything new is always going to be somewhat frightening, but there is nothing he wouldn't trust Kuroo with. "I want everything with you."

Kuroo's eyes soften as he leans in to kiss Daichi slow, licking into Daichi's mouth and sucking his bottom lip as he traces comforting circles into Daichi's hip. The way Kuroo kisses is addicting and Daichi falls into it every time, kisses back and allows his lips to be coaxed open until their movements get sloppy with arousal. It's difficult to let himself become this vulnerable sometimes, to allow Kuroo to take him apart with nothing more than his mouth and the touch of his hands but he is learning to let go of his inhibitions because he wants to give up that sense of control if that's what Kuroo wants from him. Or rather than that, it's more like he can't hold on to it even if he tried. He learns more about himself every day he spends with Kuroo: things he never thought he'd do and things he never thought he could want so badly he might just come apart at the seams.

"Relax, baby," Kuroo whispers, his voice sending chills down Daichi's spine and pooling heat low in his belly. "I'll take care of you. I always do, don't I?"

It's true—Kuroo is nothing if not a generous lover and Daichi shivers at the thought of all that Kuroo has given him over the past months that they've been together. He'd had people before Kuroo, but nothing with any of them can even come close to matching what he feels now. Kuroo kisses the corner of his mouth before trailing down to his neck and Daichi tilts his head to give Kuroo more room, allowing him to lap up the droplets of shower water beading on his skin. 

"You trust me, right?" Kuroo murmurs, right into the crook of Daichi's neck.

"I do." Daichi's fingers are steady as he tugs on the towel covering his waist, crawling forwards as it comes undone. "I trust you."

"Hmm." Sounding pleased, Kuroo pulls Daichi into his lap and Daichi goes easily, straddling Kuroo's hips and looping his arms around Kuroo's neck. "Then you'll be good for me, won't you?"

His words encourage the spread of wildfire burning across Daichi's cheeks—there's the snapping of a plastic cap and that's all the warning Daichi gets before Kuroo is rubbing at Daichi's hole with his middle finger. Daichi gasps, rocking into the touch, and the smirk on Kuroo's grows wider as he leans forward to nip at Daichi's jaw.

"This desperate for it already, are you? You're so tense, baby."

"S-shut— _ah_!" Daichi is cut off by his own sharp intake of breath when Kuroo sinks his finger in mid-sentence, eyes fluttering shut at the familiar burn.

"Hmm? What were you saying?" Kuroo teases, moving his other hand to stroke Daichi's cock salaciously, thumb brushing over the slit where precum had already begun beading and dripping down his shaft. "Shut what?"

He adds another finger and Daichi whimpers, hands digging into Kuroo's shoulders, thighs quaking as he can't help but rut back to meet Kuroo's slow, languid pumps. Kuroo's fingers are long and thick where they're spreading him, curling and thrusting and filling the room with sounds of squelching lube. It's all so overwhelming no matter how many times he's on the receiving end of it and Daichi can't even _imagine_ what Kuroo's tongue could do—even the thought of it is almost too much to bear. It's embarrassing to admit that he's already feeling the edge of orgasm creeping up on him like a shadow but it's undeniable how pliant he goes under Kuroo's touch.

But just as quickly as he feels it, it's taken away from him when Kuroo withdraws his hands suddenly, leaving Daichi agonizingly empty.

"I want you to sit on my face," he says, just like that, and Daichi flushes crimson, a wave of arousal washing over him just from Kuroo's words alone. He crawls forward, cock flushed and hanging heavy under him until he's positioned over Kuroo's chest. It takes another second of hesitation before he inches up, shaky hands finding the headboard for support, and he feels the ghost of Kuroo's breath under him, sending a shudder up his chest. Kuroo grips Daichi's thighs to pull him down, fingers digging into the pert flesh as he flattens his tongue against Daichi's hole. Daichi cries out sharply—he couldn't fully explain what that feeling is like even if he _tried_ , only that it is different and amazing and strange all at the same time.

"K-Ku—" Daichi pants, as Kuroo holds his hips in place like a vice, effectively trapping him there to be ravaged from below. Daichi has always known how dangerous Kuroo's mouth was—but this is something on another level entirely, because he can feel Kuroo fucking _up into him_  with his _tongue_ and it has Daichi quivering on his knees, moans spilling from his lips one by one. He can't even tell what Kuroo's tongue is doing, only knows that it's driving him insane, because it's licking across his hole in broad strokes and then it's tracing the circumference of it and it's fucking in and out, stretching Daichi until tears come to his eyes. "Nn—I can't, please—"

He gasps as Kuroo fits two fingers up alongside his tongue, curling to stroke at his prostate and Daichi sobs, instinctively trying to rut his hips against anything that might give him some release from the uncomfortable pressure building in his cock. This is a completely different feeling of pleasure, overwhelming and consuming and he can't stand it, strung out to his very limits but Kuroo is still _licking—_

_"Kuroo,_ I—ah! I— _"_

Though he doesn't get a response, he can _feel_ Kuroo's movements getting rougher, his fingers thrusting up deep, tongue working at his hole and then fucking into him and Daichi is losing his mind. He's somehow overstimulated before he's even come, like a bowstring pulled so taut it's seconds away from snapping, and he can't stop crying out no matter how shameful he sounds. He needs to come so desperately, wants to come, and he knows Kuroo will give it to him because Kuroo is so _good—_

It's at that moment that Kuroo fucks into Daichi's prostate again with his fingers and Daichi is _gone_ , coming all over his abdomen with a scream but Kuroo is _still_ working at his hole mercilessly. The stimulation is way too much and it's all he can do whimper softly and flinch away, to hold himself up for the scant few moments on wobbly knees. It allows Kuroo to slip out from under him and take him into gentle arms, laying him down on the bed gently. Kuroo leaves and returns moments later, wiping at Daichi's stomach with a warm washcloth. When he presses a kiss to the corner of Daichi's mouth, he smells of mouthwash.

"You okay, baby?" He croons, running a hand through Daichi's hair. There's a air of smugness in his voice and Daichi fights the urge to roll his eyes. 

"Don't get cocky."

"Oh but I haven't even used my cock yet—"

Before he can even finish his sentence, Daichi flips them over so that Kuroo is lying under him, looking up with lust blown pupils and bated breath. His cock is red tipped and pretty and rock hard when Daichi reaches behind him to stroke it tenderly.

"I don't need the reminder," he says, voice sultry. "I'll take care of you, don't worry."

Kuroo lets out something between a laugh and a hiss as Daichi presses Kuroo's cock to his entrance, loose and slippery with his efforts.

"You always do, baby."


	2. day 2: begging (sheith)

"No, Keith."

The response comes as Keith is slinking lithely into Shiro's lap, deft fingers attempting to pluck at the tablet Shiro is holding in his hand with little success. 

"It's _late_ , Shiro," Keith huffs, rolling his eyes. "Do the work tomorrow. Come to bed."

Shiro fixes him with an amused stare, the corners of his mouth quirking up as he leans forward to plant a chaste kiss on the corner of Keith's mouth. "You think you're sneaky. I know what you're doing, and the answer is no."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Innocently batting his eyelashes may be a nice touch but Shiro remains annoyingly unaffected, swiping through the ATLAS training protocols on the tablet with indifference. "Mm," Shiro hums, giving Keith a light pat on the head. "Okay, baby. Whatever you say."

This firm reaction was what he had expected from the start and it's fine, really—Keith knew he wouldn't be able to get far with such a direct approach anyway. He pushes himself out of Shiro's lap, casting a nonchalant glance over his shoulder as he pads back to the bed situated behind Shiro's desk, flopping down onto the soft covers with a sigh.

It has been 3 weeks since they fought Sendak's battalion and won. 3 weeks since he and the other paladins had been sent hurtling back into earth's atmosphere at near fatal speeds. Their only saving grace had been their lions—any other vehicle, no matter how advanced the technology, would never have survived the crash in one piece. Even the lions had ended up in a shape worse for wear, but considering that all of them had fully been expecting to sacrifice themselves for the sake of the planet, there really isn't anything more they could have asked for than to survive. The paladins, when finally dug out from their respective wreckage, had extensive injuries but thankfully were all in stable condition and healed quickly. Keith had been the last one to wake up.

Shiro had been worse off than any of them, truthfully. He'd been a wreck—if transplanting his consciousness from the black lion into the body of his clone hadn't turned his hair white, the stress from waiting by Keith's bedside would have.

But it's been 3 weeks now, and Shiro refuses to touch him, no matter how much Keith tries. In anything else Shiro would let him have his way, but he won't back down when it comes to this—at least not easily. Getting his way under these circumstances will take some foul play. Luckily for Keith, neither of them are much of a stickler for rules to begin with.

He reaches for the nightstand drawer, opening it and pulling out the bottle of lube that has gone unused for exactly 3 weeks too long, snapping it open so that Shiro can hear before tugging his loose sleep pants off and tossing it to the floor next to Shiro's chair. He knows Shiro has noticed he's up to something—Shiro is too attentive not to notice, but he'll no doubt continue playing dumb until Keith forces his hand. The lube squelches in the bottle as Keith squeezes a generous amount onto his fingers, laying back on the bed with his shoulders propped on the pillows so that he can reach down and slick his cock up, stroking it languid and slow. It doesn't take long for him to get hard—the 3 weeks he's been forced to wait has tottering over the edge in his patience. He's past caring if he has to put on a bit of a show.

It'll be pointless if he makes it too obvious, despite both him and Shiro knowing exactly what his intention is, but they have a game to play and Keith doesn't like losing.

The room is silent save for the sound of the lube between his hand working over his cock. By the time he's worked himself up enough to let out a soft sigh, Shiro is tapping his hand where it's laying idly on top of the desk.

Shiro doesn't fidget. Not usually.

So Keith works his hand a little harder, gives a heady moan, and suddenly the tapping stops.

"Keith," Shiro says casually without turning around, "what are you doing?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. Don't worry about me." He doesn't even bother hiding his smile. "Just— _mm_ , killing time. You know."

It counts as a point for him that he got Shiro to break the silence. Slowly he trails his hand from his cock down to his hole, circling it once before sinking his finger in to the hilt, and this time the moan he lets out is more than Shiro can bear.

"You're killing me here," Shiro murmurs, shaking his head before turning in his chair to fix Keith with a glare. His eyes are dark, narrowing as he finally lays eyes on exactly what Keith has been doing behind him. "You know you're _injured_ , right?"

"I'm fine," Keith says, pumping his finger a few times before fitting a second in, spreading his legs to give Shiro a better view. "I've been out of the hospital for— _ah_ , 2 weeks."

"You have a concussion. And 2 bruised ribs."

"Had.I _had_  a concussion and 2 bruised ribs. If you— _mm_ , don't want to do anything it's fine, but _I'm_ sure as hell going— _ah_! To do what _I_ want." 

His cock is leaking precum onto his belly as he fucks himself on 3 fingers now, splayed out on the bed for Shiro to watch, and it's Keith's final move to gaze over with half-lidded eyes while biting down on his bottom lip. 

"Come on, Shiro. Please...I want it."

Shiro is up out of his chair and looming over Keith in an instant, reaching down with his hand to grip Keith's wrist, effectively stopping his movement.

"You just don't listen," he growls low, and pulls Keith's fingers out of him before bringing his hand up to pin to the bed above his head. "You have no idea how much I've been holding back—"

"Don't," Keith blurts, squirming at the sudden emptiness. His voice comes out broken because it's been so _long_ since he's felt Shiro, had Shiro in him, and the need is getting too much to bear. He wants and he wants and he _wants_ , and this entire time Shiro has been _right there_  but Keith just hasn't been able to have him. It's enough to drive him mad. "Don't hold back. Please Shiro, I'm ready for it. I'm ready for you, just take me, just—"

"Shh." Cold metal fingers run through his hair as Shiro's eyes soften, undoing the button to his pants with his human hand and pulling his cock out to rub it over Keith's entrance. He's hard already, so full and beautiful and Keith _wants—_ "You want it, right? I'm right here."

The push in is slow and it _burns_ , because Shiro is big and 3 of Keith's own fingers aren't quite enough to prep him for the girth of Shiro's cock, but the burn is delicious and everything that Keith has been missing in the time he's been denied this. Shiro presses in to the hilt, so slow it's torturous, and pulls out at the same agonizing pace. At first it's fine because Keith wants to relish this feeling of just having Shiro back inside him after what felt like forever, but then Shiro is slowing down _even more_ and Keith feels like he's losing his mind.

"Shiro, _please_ ," he gasps, reaching down with his free hand to touch himself, desperately needing to relieve the pressure building up inside him. "More, I need—"

"I thought you wanted me?" Shiro says, grabbing Keith's wrist and pinning it to the bed alongside his other one. "I'm here, baby. You have me."

Keith should have known better than to think it would be so easy. He truly doesn't know what was better, forgoing sex entirely or to be  _this_ wound up, to need to be fucked so badly he feels like he's burning up, and having Shiro inside him but still not getting it like he wants.

"Harder, god, I—" 

"You were bad," Shiro says simply, still rolling his hips in a deliberate attempt to make Keith cry out in desperation. "Weren't you?"

"Y-yes."

"Mmm, but you're being _so_ good for me now, baby."

Shiro's cock is stretching him open, just brushing against his prostate with every slow thrust, and it's enough to make him see stars but not enough all at the same time. It's absolutely maddening.

" _Shiro_!" Keith cries, trying futilely to break free of the hold Shiro has on his wrists. "No, I can't, I—"

"Say it. Ask for it properly."

Keith is far past the point of shame, or anything even remotely close to it. 

"Please, I want to come, _please_ Shiro—"

The smile on Shiro's face is heated and approving as he leans down to kiss Keith deep, licking into his mouth before murmuring, "you're so pretty when you beg."

That's all the warning Keith gets before Shiro snaps his hips up, fucking up into Keith with the force that Keith has needed this entire time, making him cry out as Shiro does it again, and again, and again. This is how he wanted it—to get fucked hard enough to make up for the past 3 weeks of painful denial all in one go and then some, and Shiro is never one to disappoint. It's impossible to speak with how wound up he is, the only thing his voice is capable of forming are mindless cries of  _ah, ah_ tumbling from his lips. It's too much, all of it, the waiting and the teasing and the receiving, making a fire burn low in his belly and his toes curl and it's all Keith can do to  _take_ _it,_ everything that Shiro wants to give him.

He comes, whiting out around the edges, trembling and gasping for air as if he hasn't been able to breathe properly for weeks. Shiro stutters above him as he clenches down involuntarily through his climax.

By the time Keith opens his eyes, his abdomen has been wiped clean and Shiro is beside him, curling a protective arm over his chest.

"Are you okay?" Is the first thing that Shiro asks, his face drawn tight in concern as he reaches up to cup Keith's cheek, brushing his thumb across a scabbed over wound that was still in the process of healing.

Keith huffs as a reply, reaches up to cover Shiro's hand with his own and rolling his eyes dramatically with a smug grin.

"Never felt better. Why do you ask?"

The drawn out groan Shiro gives is the only admission of defeat Keith can expect. He'll take what he can get.

"I'm over my head with you, you know that?" Shiro asks, running his fingers through Keith's hair lovingly, smile both bemused and exasperated all at once. Keith laughs, rolls over to tuck his face into the crook of Shiro's neck.

"Mm. I love you too, Takashi."


	3. prompt 3: masturbation (kurodai)

The worst part of dating a doctor-to-be is without a doubt, the loneliness.

Daichi is _so_ proud of Kuroo—he is, truly, from the bottom of his heart. He knows how hard Kuroo has slaved over his studies to get to where he is now. After all, he bore witness to night after sleepless night of Kuroo hunched over his work desk, study materials piled up high like walls around him, his hair an absolute disaster and glasses slipping down his nose, framing the dark bags underneath his eyes.

When he passed his exams with flying colours like Daichi knew he would, they celebrated with all their friends and perhaps Daichi had naively thought that it would get better after that. Perhaps he thought that the hardest part was over, and that he might possibly be able to spend just a little more time with his boyfriend.

Except after academics, Kuroo starts his two-year clinical training.

If anything, it’s worse. At least when he was studying Kuroo was at home, and Daichi could bring him some coffee and give him a kiss along with a few words of encouragement whenever he wanted. He relished in the comfort of feeling that Kuroo was nearby even if they weren’t able to spend time together.

But now, more nights than not Kuroo ends up sleeping at the hospital. When he does make it home, he collapses into bed and leaves early the next morning for rounds.

Going to sleep by himself is lonely. Waking up by himself is lonely. Daichi doesn’t remember ever feeling this needy.

He doesn’t remember the last time they were able to touch each other properly. Or when they last had the chance for anything more than a chaste kiss before saying goodbye. Daichi misses Kuroo more than he thought possible to miss his boyfriend that he lives with, but with every passing day the ache gets more and more prominent and his need grows until it _burns_.

It might also have something to do with the fact that the manuscript for his second novel hasn’t been going well as of late. The two go hand in hand, Daichi supposes—he misses Kuroo and his mood worsens, which dampens his motivation to write, and then he’s frustrated that he can’t write, and he misses Kuroo more than ever. It’s like that on this particular day, after he’s been sitting in front of his laptop for what feels like forever and has absolutely nothing to show for it.

 _Stupid Kuroo_ , Daichi thinks with an irritated pout. _This is all his fault_.

(It isn’t. Not even a little bit.)

He just—he misses Kuroo _so_ much. He misses the sound of Kuroo’s voice. He misses having dinner with Kuroo every night. He misses the way Kuroo dramatizes everything when he tells stories about his day, the way he gets so excited and animated with his gestures, lapsing into that stupid, ugly laugh of his mid-sentence, and—

He misses Kuroo’s touch.

 _God_. Does he miss touching Kuroo.

Daichi misses the way Kuroo leans in, his eyes like warm molten honey, lips quirked up in one corner. He misses the way Kuroo’s words make him shiver with anticipation as they promise the best kind of trouble—and Kuroo _never_ fails to deliver.

The familiar burn of arousal is pooling low in his belly as he thinks about Kuroo this way, and uncomfortably Daichi readjusts his position in his chair. How long had it been since they last…? A week? No, longer than that. Since Kuroo started his surgical rotation, so _two and a half weeks_ , at least.

Hell.

Getting himself off just doesn’t feel right, especially when Kuroo is under so much stress and must be feeling the same need too, but—

Oh, screw it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

Daichi stands and makes his way to the bed, crawling onto it on all fours before turning to flop onto his back. He can’t shake the vague guilt that plagues him, like he’s doing something wrong for pleasuring himself when Kuroo is stuck at the hospital, likely overwhelmingly busy and sleep deprived. Shaking those feelings aside, Daichi reaches down to palm himself slow through the thin fabric of his sweatpants, already tenting from earlier.

It’s not _his_ fault Kuroo is never around. Stupid Kuroo. Stupid Kuroo and his stupid hair that Daichi can’t help but make an absolute mess of every time they fuck, and his stupidly big hands that know exactly where to touch to make Daichi keen—

He misses Kuroo.

Shoving the waistband of his sweatpants down impatiently, Daichi fists his cock and gives it a languid pump, already flushed in the face as he thinks about how Kuroo would touch him if he were here. Kuroo loves to take it slow, _especially_ when he knows Daichi is desperate for it, and though he wants nothing more than to be turned over and fucked into the sheets until he’s thoroughly spent, Daichi forces himself with an iron will to control his pacing. He wants to come, but more than anything he wants Kuroo to be the one to make him come and that’s just not an option right now.

“Mm, Kuroo,” Daichi moans softly, stroking himself off as he arches his back ever so slightly. He is lying on Kuroo’s side of the bed and the pillow smells like him, which only makes Daichi miss him more as he turns to bury his face in the pillow, working his hand just a little more frantically than before. Oh, the things Kuroo would say to him if he saw how needy Daichi was being right now. He could practically hear the purr in his ear, every salacious, filthy thing Kuroo loved to whisper as he took Daichi apart piece by piece, inch by inch. Precum is dribbling down his shaft, smeared under his own hand as Daichi touches himself, and it feels good, it does, but all the same it’s just not _enough_.

With a groan of frustration Daichi leans over to dig the lube out of their nightstand drawer, dribbling an excessive amount onto his fingers and tossing it aside before reaching down to rub at his hole, sinking his finger inside desperately. It’s been awhile since he’s had to do this himself. Kuroo is a generous lover and perhaps Daichi’s been spoiled by him—there had been a time where this was enough for Daichi but clearly it isn’t anymore. It just frustrates him further as he adds another finger and honest to god _whines_ , pumping his cock with his other hand.

“Kuroo, Kuroo—” he pants, crooking his fingers, but his fingers aren’t long enough to reach the spot he needs by himself. He adds a third finger, stretching himself out until it burns just a little bit the way he likes it.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Daichi vaguely feels the tears beading at the corners with how desperate he feels, how deeply he wants Kuroo, and he’s so lost in his own feeling that he doesn’t even notice when the bedroom door opens.

“Daichi? Were you calling—”

Daichi jolts, eyes flying open to see the words dying on Kuroo’s tongue as his bag slides off of his shoulder, landing with a dull _thud_ on their floor. Kuroo looks like hell, to be honest—his hair is an absolute disaster, the bags under his eyes could count as entire continents by themselves and he has the faint trace of a five o’clock shadow lining the edges of his jaw.

“I thought—I thought you said you weren’t going to be home tonight,” Daichi stutters, breath still heavy in his chest and flushing dark crimson with the way Kuroo’s eyes drag down his body to land on the compromising positioning of Daichi’s hands.

“I wanted to surprise you because I know we haven’t spent a lot of time together lately,” Kuroo says dumbly, brows raising. “Seems like I interrupted something, though.”

“I—”

“Well don’t let me stop you.” The look in Kuroo’s eyes goes dark as he leans a shoulder against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. “You can continue.”

He’s playing a game with Daichi, the way he tilts his head and smirks, making Daichi ache with desire. It’s one thing to fuck himself on his own fingers to the _thought_ of Kuroo. It’s another thing entirely to do it with Kuroo standing right there, just out of arm’s reach. But to be honest, it’s a fight he’s willing to give in to this time around if it means he can have Kuroo for real.

“Will you come here?” Daichi asks, reaching out almost shyly, and he doesn’t miss the way Kuroo’s throat tenses visibly. “Please.”

“But you looked like you were having fun just fine without me,” Kuroo coos, stepping forward and shrugging his jacket off, letting it fall to the floor without a second look. He’s wearing the navy button up that Daichi _loves_ , and the way he deliberately stops to roll his sleeves up to his elbows is just playing plain dirty. “Weren’t you?”

“Only because I missed you,” Daichi murmurs, feelings his cheeks burn all the way to his ears.

“So you got into my side of the bed,” Kuroo rounds the corner of the bed to stand next to Daichi but he doesn’t touch, damn him, merely stands with his hands in his pockets like he’s having idle conversation. “And you fucked yourself open while moaning my name?”

“…yes.” Daichi breathes, looking up guiltily.

“But it wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

“…no.”

“Do you want me?” Kuroo smiles, cunning and teasing and just a little mean. But the answer to his question is an easy one, and Daichi doesn’t have the will power to put up a fight.

“Yes.”

“Oh, good boy. So honest.” When Kuroo finally leans down, Daichi surges up, pride be damned, wrapping his arms around Kuroo’s neck to kiss him deep. He threads his unlubed fingers through Kuroo’s hair, pulling on it the way he had been thinking about during his earlier ministrations, and he doesn’t miss the way Kuroo tenses his grip on Daichi’s waist until it’s painful.

“Kuroo, Kuroo come _on_ ,” Daichi whispers urgently against Kuroo’s lips, pulling until Kuroo has to get one knee onto the bed. “Will you just—”

“You’re killing me,” Kuroo growls, grabbing at Daichi’s arms roughly and ripping them away from where they’re wound around his neck. It’s a small, rare slip of anger—the force that Kuroo pins Daichi’s arms to the base of their headboard so hard that it shakes, looming over him with a dark look in his eyes.

Oh, Daichi’s in for it. He’s definitely in for it.

“Are you mad?” Daichi asks softly, trying his utmost not to smile.

“Damn straight I’m mad.” The way Kuroo shifts his leg to grind his thigh against Daichi’s leaking cock is a deliberate act to bully. Daichi gasps, hips bucking up involuntarily as he writhes under the pressure. “I’ve been slaving away at the hospital, running on fumes, missing you like crazy and here you are, having fun all by yourself. I’m mad, alright.”

“Wasn’t much fun.” Daichi smirks despite his disadvantageous position, rolling his hips slowly against Kuroo’s leg. His cock is throbbing painfully with arousal and he feels _empty_ , which really is such a terrible ache when he had been three fingers full just scant minutes ago. “Not without you.”

It’s the truth, after all.

“God, do you have _any_ idea—” Wrapping his hand around Daichi’s cock while keeping the other hand around both of Daichi’s wrists, Kuroo leans in with his brow furrowed, kissing Daichi slow. “How _much_ I’ve wanted you? How much I’ve had to hold back?”

It’s another feeling entirely to have Kuroo touching him just like he’s wanted this whole time, like a jolt of electricity shooting down his spine and Daichi _wants_ , finally starting to struggle against the hold Kuroo has on his arms.

“Tetsu, come on, I’m ready, I’m ready for you,” he whines, pleading with wide eyes. “ _Tetsurou_ —”

“Fuck—”

Daichi is flipped over suddenly, his face barely hitting the pillow before he feels Kuroo gripping his hips to pull him up into position forcefully. There’s the hurried sound of a button unsnapping and a zipper being pulled down—the squeeze of their lube bottle, and that’s all the warning Daichi gets before Kuroo is yanking him backwards, thrusting in to the hilt in one fell swoop.

“ _Ah_!” Daichi cries, and he swears he sees stars with the way Kuroo pounds into him, unrelenting and dropping any pretense they might have been keeping up before this. “Yes, Tetsu—”

It’s rare to have Kuroo this way, completely uninhibited and _rough_ , because in bed Kuroo loves to be the one in control. He loves to be the level headed one while Daichi is slowly losing his mind, taking his sweet, sweet time unravelling Daichi until he comes apart—giving just a little and then winding back until Daichi _begs_. But the way Kuroo is snapping his hips now, fucking into Daichi with abandon, is far from controlled. This is what they both needed—to feel each other without anything else getting in the way, to _have_ each other in the rawest way possible.

Daichi has missed Kuroo so much.

His jaw slackens as Kuroo nails his prostate, moans tumbling from his lips like a waterfall, and he reaches down to try and relieve some of the pressure in his aching cock—

“Don’t you dare,” Kuroo snarls, grabbing Daichi’s wrist again, leaning forward to sink his teeth into the nape of Daichi’s neck. Daichi cries out, rocking backwards into Kuroo’s thrust, the jolt of pain only flaring his arousal even more. “Come with just my cock, I know you can do it.”

“Tetsu—” Daichi whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut as Kuroo laves at the bite mark with his tongue. “Tetsu, Tetsu—”

“I missed you.” The sound of Kuroo’s voice breaks around the edges as his movements get sloppy, losing its rhythm, and Daichi can tell that Kuroo is getting close. “I miss you so much. God, you feel so good—”

“I missed you too,” Daichi sobs, pleasure overwhelming him like a tidal wave.  “I— _ah_! Love you—”

“Love you,” Kuroo mumbles, pivoting his hips again, and the drag of his cock thick inside Daichi is everything Daichi had been getting himself off to earlier. He feels so full, so full of Kuroo and it’s impossible to believe that anything in this world could feel so good.

“ _Ah_! Tetsu, _please_ —“ He’s not sure what he’s asking for at this point but Kuroo curls his hand over Daichi’s and somehow he must know even if Daichi doesn’t, because with the next thrust he’s fucking against Daichi’s prostate again and Daichi is gone, gone, _gone_. He comes so hard his arms give out from under him and he falls face first into the pillow, moans stifled against the fabric as Kuroo pounds into him from behind before the fingers on his hips dig into his skin and Kuroo groans low before stuttering to a stop.

After a few moments Kuroo pulls out, and there’s that awful feeling of being empty again but it’s not quite as bad in a post-orgasmic haze, Daichi decides. He turns his head to peek out at where Kuroo has flopped onto the bed next to him.

“Tetsu…?” He murmurs, reaching out to brush Kuroo’s bangs aside, and he realizes that Kuroo’s eyes are closed.

What’s more, his chest is rising and falling in steady breaths. Asleep.

“Oh, baby.” Daichi laughs, sitting up and pulling the sheets up to Kuroo’s chin. He really does look terrible, all pale and gaunt from exhaustion. Mentally Daichi makes a note to buy some saury for him for dinner the next chance he gets.

“—chi,” Kuroo mumbles in his sleep, brows furrowed in discontent until Daichi sighs and gets under the covers with him. He immediately winds his arm across Daichi’s waist, tucking his face into the crook of Daichi’s neck, and then he finally stills.

Daichi presses a kiss to Kuroo’s forehead.

“Good night, Tetsu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> october turned out to be a crazy month and i completely fell apart with kinktober, but i still have tons of ideas so i'll be posting into november, most likely! many apologies and i hope you all enjoy this chapter!


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